


You Think Too Much

by OrangeZest100



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1969194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeZest100/pseuds/OrangeZest100
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer angsts about his existence as a higher being and both of them think way too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Think Too Much

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jamestiqueeriuskirk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamestiqueeriuskirk/gifts).



> For the FYSL Hotter than Hell Fanwork Exchange. Prompts were "I can resist everything except temptation" and stardust.

Lucifer was alive before space was made.  He was the second, after Michael; Michael who was dedication and rules and single-minded intensity folded into light and the scent of hibiscus.  Lucifer himself, well, he was frustration and rage and an undying belief in his own mission wrapped in light and the taste of mint on the back of the tongue.  How devastating is it to realize your father believed he made you wrong?  Failed with Michael, failed with Lucifer, failed with Raphael and Gabriel, and although He believed the angels to be a success He didn’t believe He made anything correct until He made the creatures and plants of the Earth, until He trapped free will in planes of bones and soft flesh and liquid water.  How devastating to realize you are _wrong_ and something as weak as them is right?

How shattering to have that very determination your father made you with be what makes him hate you?

If all anyone believes him to be is sin, then sin he can become.  Michael’s single-mindedness doesn’t even allow him to hear Lucifer’s arguments, and the Angel of Light doubts it allows his brother to hear his screams.  Gabriel, at least, had looked marginally sympathetic.

( _His light in your eyes and you forget the nature of sharp things is to break through skins; that it broke through and up, tearing rending, until it reached the human heart your brother had claimed.  Dying light; dying Grace.  You stood there for a long time looking down on him.  The blood on your hands isn’t his, but it might as well been._ ) 

Lucifer spends a very long time in isolation until the thing that holds him there learns how to torture him.  He spends even longer before he breaks through its control to recreate himself, even if he still cannot escape.  Lucifer does terrible things in order to escape.

Here he is now, years later and after a failed Apocalypse, sitting in a bunker in Kansas wiggling his feet under his true vessels thigh.  Lucifer remembers the strings of stardust his father had made in space, how he and Michael would swirl and compress them to form the first stars.  He remembers his own delighted laughter when they first succeed, how blinding Michael’s smile was perched upon his face.  Sam swats at his leg somewhat playfully, complaining loudly about Lucifer’s cold feet before he turns his attention back to the book he’s holding.

Lucifer often forgets that Sam can read Latin.  Perhaps this simply comes from the fact that Latin is a dead language on Earth, how even the hunters only learn what they need of it to get by.  Perhaps it’s because he forgets how much he taught the human when they were in Hell, because despite how close they were, Sam still wants to forget entire moments of the Cage.  Not that Lucifer blames him, but he does do his best to put such things out of mind, if only to ensure Sam’s level of comfort. 

Lucifer feels like he can forget a lot of things when he is under Sam’s attention.

[ _Your hands were only made to destroy, your father taught you that long ago and yet here you are, and you’re touching without the intent of destruction or pain.  You’re in a dream; he thinks you’re someone else as he touches you and declares his love, but for a moment, a brief fluttering moment that sits in your chest like one of your father’s birds, you are loved and you are wanted.  It is a very long time, after that, before he looks at you with anything but disgust or fear, but he does love you, now.  He smiles at the very sight of you._ ]

Sam is tracing the lines of his book with his fingers, his brow furrowed in concentration, and Lucifer looks up for a moment at a sound from the table but the Prophet—Kevin Tran—just smiles at him, his lips thin as he grabs a stack of notes and continues to his room.  Lucifer wishes, briefly, that he could teach Kevin how to read the Tablet, but he has tried, and he can’t, and he doesn’t envy the boy his headaches or his trials.  Lucifer turns his gaze back to Sam, the way he’s mouthing the Latin carefully to himself, the way his finger is measured in its pace above the page, and mostly the way his brow is furrowed in concentration and his shoulders are tight with an anxious need to _understand_.  Lucifer is certain he knows that feeling.  [ _Why Father, please?_ ]  It is not pleasant.

Lucifer leans forward and kisses Sam’s temple.  Sam laughs, and looks up, body relaxing just a fraction as he turns his attention form the dead language to Lucifer himself.  “What was that for?”

“I can resist everything except temptation,” Lucifer quips dryly.  Sam snorts, ducking his head for a moment to hide his face behind his hair.  Lucifer reaches out with two cool fingers to tuck Sam’s hair behind his ear, and that makes Sam look up.  Lucifer smiles.  “You think too much sometimes Sam Winchester.”

“And you don’t,” Sam asks, eyebrow raising, but he smiles too.

“I’m old.  I’m allowed to think too much.”  Sam reaches out his hand, tracing Lucifer’s face.

“You don’t look that old.  This vessel is younger than Nick.”

Lucifer shrugs.  It is true.  This boy is skinny, dark hair, pale and smattered with moles and freckles, and he was probably in his twenties.  Lucifer hadn’t bothered to ask.  “He’s also holding up better.  I wouldn’t be surprised in my father had something to do with it.”

Sam raises his head fully at that, frowning.  “God?  You think?”

“Maybe it’s some kind of perverse award.”  Lucifer scowls.  “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Hey,” Sam says softly, using the hand he still has raised to cup Lucifer’s cheek.  “It doesn’t matter okay?  It matters that you’re here, with me, and that you’re okay.  We’re okay.”  Sam frowns.  “Right?”

Lucifer smiles.  “We are Sam.”  He leans forward and kisses Sam on the forehead.  “We are okay.”  [ _Even if we’re no longer part of the stars or the things that make them up._ ]


End file.
